Chapter XIII: Daring Work

When Matt had got outside the iron fence and just within the screen of timber, he turned. Helen Brady, bareheaded and plainly just from the interior of the house, stood at the edge of the roof, following Matt with her eyes.

Matt waved his cap to her, and this was the first intimation the girl had had that she was seen. She fluttered her hand in response and then stretched out both arms appealingly.

Matt nodded his head vigorously, to signify that her appeal was understood, and that it would be answered; then he pointed through the woods in the direction of the air ship. Helen turned her head to look in the direction indicated.

From her elevated position she must have been able to see the gas bag of the Hawk over or through the tops of the trees. Looking back to Matt, she waved one hand and nodded.

Matt placed a finger on his lips and waved toward the house in an endeavor to make the girl understand that she must be very careful, so as not to let her captors know where she was.

Again Helen nodded her head, and accompanied the movement with a gesture that plainly requested him to hurry. He replied in pantomime that he would be as quick as possible, then whirled and dashed through the timber.

Carl and Ferral were walking about and talking impatiently. At sight of Matt they both started toward him.

"What happened, matey?" cried Ferral. "Carl and I have been all ahoo, over here, listening to the shooting and trying to guess what was going on. Have you captured the----"

"No time to talk, pards," cried Matt, running to the air ship and beginning to make her ready. "Dick, you jump in here with me. Carl, I can't take you along. There's brisk work ahead and the Hawk must not carry any more passengers than will be necessary. Cast off one of the ropes. You cast off the other, Dick."

It was easy to tell, from Matt's manner and words, that something of vital importance was in prospect.

"I von't be in der vay, Matt," pleaded Carl, hustling with one of the mooring ropes. "I vill make meinseluf so shmall as bossiple und----"

"Two are all that can go," broke in Matt decidedly.

The engine was popping and sputtering as Carl and Ferral threw in the ropes.

"Vat's der madder, anyvay?" asked Carl, swallowing his disappointment with a wry face.

"Helen Brady is on the roof of the house. The scoundrels are below, fighting with the officers, and don't know she is on the roof. If we hurry, we can get there and rescue her."

While Matt was talking, Ferral had got into the car. Matt switched the power into the propeller shaft and the Hawk glided upward. When the car cleared the tops of the trees, Matt brought the air ship to a level.

"Look sharp, Dick," called Matt, his face set and determined. "We've got to win out, this time. If we don't, there's no telling what will happen to the girl. Whipple has already threatened her, in case the officers don't leave the house. Can you see Miss Brady?"

Matt's position, in the rear of the car, rendered it impossible for him to see much of what lay ahead.

"There she is, matey!" cried Ferral. "She sees us coming. There's an open skylight in the roof which shows how she got to the top of the house."

"Any of the men on the roof?"

"No."

"Good! How are we headed?"

"Just right. Hold to the course as you are."

"Are we high enough?"

"Plenty."

"It won't do to hit the edge of the roof, you know, and if we're too high, we may skim clear over the house before we can drop down."

"Just as you are now, Matt, you'll come over the building three or four feet in the clear. There's a chimney, and if you can drop beside that, I'll stand ready to take a twist of the mooring rope about it. The wind's freshening, and if there isn't something to hold to we're liable to be blown off the roof before we can get the girl aboard."

"You take care of that part of it. Steer me so as to come onto the roof close to the chimney."

It was necessary for Matt to hurry, yet he could not drive the Hawk ahead swiftly because of the necessity of making a quick halt on the comparatively small space of the roof top.

Harris, Burton, and Sanders had been keeping up a brisk fire ever since Matt had left to go for the air ship. None of them seemed to be looking up or paying any attention to what Matt and Ferral were doing. This, of course, was for the purpose of keeping the presence of the air ship a secret from those in the house.

But, in some way, the secret got out. Abruptly the fire from the house slackened, and then ceased altogether. As Matt shut off the power and glided over the edge of the roof, he caught a glimpse of Whipple's astounded face in a second-story window which had not been boarded up. When the air ship vanished over the edge of the house top, Whipple disappeared from the window.

"They're onto you, Matt!" roared Harris, from below. "You'll have to hurry, if you win. From the sounds we hear, everybody is climbing for the roof."

Matt and Ferral remained perfectly cool. The situation was a ticklish one, and if their labors were crowned with success they would have to keep their heads and not make any misplays.

Ferral stood at the edge of the car, holding a loop of one of the mooring ropes in his hands.

"Turn her, mate!" he cried.

The power having already been shut off, the Hawk was proceeding only under the headway given by the now dormant motor.

This was sufficient not only to turn her, but also to carry her downward so that the bottom of the car swept the roof.

As they passed one of the chimneys, Ferral dropped the loop of the rope over its top, and laid back. His pull halted the air ship.

In a twinkling, Matt was over the rail and standing beside the car. He held out his hand to the girl, and she ran toward him, with a cry of joy and thankfulness.

At that precise moment, Matt, out of the tails of his eyes, saw a head appearing through the open skylight. Grasping Helen's arm, he hurried her toward the air ship.

"Step lively, mate!" cried Dick, as Matt assisted the girl into the car.

No matter how swiftly Matt hurried, it was certain that the man coming through the skylight would reach the roof in time to interfere with the two boys before they could get away.

Matt realized that, and so did Ferral. The man, who was now head-and-shoulders above the roof top, was Whipple, the most desperate member of the gang.

Whipple, who was undoubtedly amazed to see Helen all but rescued when, quite likely, he supposed her safe in some room below, gave a bellow of rage and fury.

"That'll do you, King!" he roared. "Ye're not goin' ter hike off with the girl in any such way as this!"

Leaning against the side of the opening, Whipple rested his elbows on the roof and took careful aim at Motor Matt with his revolver. Others were flocking toward the roof on the stairway below Whipple, but he blocked the way.

Matt and Helen were in the car, and it seemed certain that Whipple's shot was to be effective, he was taking so much care to get a good aim.

But the shot was not fired, principally because Ferral became suddenly active.

Seizing a loosened brick from the top of the chimney, the young sailor hurled it with all his force. Whipple was struck in the shoulder, and the impact of the missile hurled him from his foothold and down upon those under him. As he vanished from the skylight, a clamor of startled voices came back through the opening, accompanied by a clatter of men falling down the stairs.

"That's something I owe you, Dick," remarked Matt, settling into his chair among the levers.

"You don't owe me anything, old ship," answered Ferral. "I'll have to do something like that several times before you and I come on anything like an easy bow-line. But take care of the ship, or she'll founder."

In order to grab the brick from the chimney, and throw it, Ferral, had to let go of the rope by means of which he was holding the Hawk against the wind. With the rope loosened, the uncontrolled air ship drifted off the roof and was bobbing around, some fifty feet above ground, the sport of the breeze. There was imminent danger of her coming to grief, either against the cupola of the stable, or in the tops of the trees.

Swiftly Matt got the motor to going, and as the Hawk took the push of the propeller, she once more became manageable. This was in the nick of time, too, for as the craft glided upward the bottom of the car rustled through the branches of one of the trees.

"Hurrah!" cheered Harris, from below. "Well done, Motor Matt!"

"Bully boy!" applauded Sanders.

"Never saw anything neater!" whooped Burton.

"Go back to where you were before," called Harris, his voice faint in the distance, "and wait till we finish this job. It won't be long, now, till we get the scoundrels."

"Sink me," muttered Ferral, breathing hard, "those officers don't know how well we did. They couldn't see the top of the house from the ground, and they didn't know Whipple was looking at us over the end of a gun."

"Matt," said Helen, in a quivering voice, "I don't know how I ever can repay you for what you've done, or----"

"Repay us!" cried Ferral. "Why, Miss Brady, I guess you're forgetting what you've done for Matt and me."

"It's a big relief, Helen," said Matt, "to get you out of the clutches of that gang. It's the best stroke of work the Hawk ever did."

"Right-o," agreed Ferral enthusiastically, "and it was right and proper that the craft, manned by us, should save Miss Brady. If it hadn't been for her, we wouldn't have had the Hawk. Oh, this is a pretty square old world, after all. Don't you think so, old ship?"